Touching
by Laeslaer
Summary: Tag to S7 Dean gets it. He's been to hell and he remembers what it was like getting back into regular life. He knows why Sam is different, but there's one thing Dean doesn't understand... until Sam tells him


**Ive had this idea for awhile, I just hope it turned out okay. Reviews make my day. Don't be afraid to correct me on anything or to tell me what is weird with my writing style. I would actually really love to improve my writing.**

Touching

It had been about a week since the wall had fallen.

Courtesy of Castiel.

Dean was pissed to say the least. Sam was experiencing hell all over again. Dean had kept track of how long Sam had been in the cage for the year he'd been gone; and again when he found out Sam's soul was still in the cage. All of it hit around 200 years, and Castiel unleashed all of it in a single malicious touch. Found it necessary to open Sam's mind to centuries of torture at the hands of the devil himself.

Dean wished he could believe that Michael had stayed out of it, but he'd met the angel, heard about him, and knew that Sam hadn't been spared from the angel's torture.

The worst part was that Castiel had done it to get Dean out of the way, which infuriated Dean even more. It was a cruel and unfair move. If Castiel hadn't died, Dean would've killed him. Right after Castiel fixed Sam, Dean would stab him in the neck for messing with his little brother.

Castiel had asked for forgiveness. Forgiveness from Dean; forgiveness Dean refused to give him. Because, even as the apology was voiced, Sam had been suffering another hell flashback. Castiel had the nerve, _the nerve _to apologize to Dean, yet not say a word to Sam. It was Sam Castiel had betrayed. It was Sam suffering hell. It was Sam who was remembering _200 years _of torture and pain.

Dean had an idea of what Sam was experiencing. But he'd only been tortured for 30 years. 30 years and Dean broke.

_To last two centuries?_

Dean couldn't imagine.

Now, the hell memories raged, but Sam was fighting them. Like the stubborn, pain-in-the-ass little brother Dean knew and loved. He was noticing changes in Sam.

Sam loved being outside now, something Dean understood. The outside air, the open space, and clear blue skies all reminding you that you were _out. _No more chains, no more darkness, and you could actually open the door and_ leave_. Sam would sit outside by the Impala while Dean worked. He would sit on the porch and read, or just watch the skies.

Sam didn't like being alone. While he wasn't clingy, he'd usually follow Dean or Bobby if they left him alone in a room. He'd try to stay by himself, but ended up following minutes later.

Dean understood that too. In hell, the only faces you'd see were the ones of your torturers. They brought fear, pain and misery with them. Seeing faces whe you got back was another reminder you were free. You could have people around without the torture, which was amazing after years of hell.

One thing Dean couldn't understand was the touching. Before, they would have contact almost constantly. When they sat on the couch, their sides would touch. When they walked together, they'd brush shoulders, or they'd push each other off the sidewalks. There would always be some sort of playful punch or kick.

Dean had never really noticed them until now. Now when they were gone. All of them- gone. Sam refused to be touched. He would sit by Dean, but with several inches between them. If Dean moved closer, Sam would shift and move away. When they walked, Sam would take a step away if Dean got too close.

A few days ago, Sam had been at the table, greeting Dean as he walked to the fridge.

"_You doin' okay?" Dean asked, walking back to Sam._

"_Yeah." Sam said, watching him "Yeah, I'm good."_

'Liar'_ Dean thought, knowing Sam repeated things when he lied. Years ago, Sam had pointed out that both brothers shared the "tell". But neither brother had been able to break the habit._

"_You can beat this Sammy." Dean said, placing a hand on Sam's shoulder._

_Sam's entire body stiffened at the touch. Every muscle beneath Dean's had tensing in an instant. Sam shifted, moving away from the touch, squirming uncomfortably in the chair._

_Dean quickly removed his hand and took a step back, hiding his surprise, and trying not to be hurt by Sam's actions. But, he couldn't help but feel like his touch should comfort Sam. Like he should be the exception to Sam's discomforts._

Dean forced himself to be patient as the days went on, reminding himself of how patient and understanding Sam had been when Dean got back. So, since then, Dean had given Sam his space. He respected the need, but still couldn't understand it. But if Sam needed it, that was fine. Even if things never went back to the way they were before, that was okay. Dean would just have to get used to it.

Dean sat on the far left side of the couch, opening the laptop and skimmed the news for any interesting headlines that would lead to information about the leviathans. If Sam joined him, he'd be able to take as much space as he needed.

The bold headlines begged for attention, being vague and annoyingly short.

3 car accident, 4 injured, something about some sort of hero

Convenience store robbery. No money taken, the guy just taking boxes of soda.

Nothing really stuck out.

A few minutes passed, and Sam joined him, sitting a few inches away.

"Hey," Dean said, closing the laptop, and setting it to the side. Making a point to clearly pay attention to Sam.

"I need to talk to you."

Dean nodded, he knew that tone. "Okay. About what?"

Sam shifted, tensing slightly. He leaned forward; weight leaning on his knees, and slowly rubbed his palms together.

'_No way' _

"About the cage."

Dean blinked in absolute shock. Sam was about to trust Dean with details from hell?

While he didn't necessarily want to hear what had been done to Sam, he knew that talking about hell wasn't easy. Sam was talking to _Dean _about it, witch wasn't surprising but showed how much Sam trusted him.

But _why _was Sam sharing?

Concern quickly replaced his surprise when he couldn't think of an answer.

"You okay?"

"….Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

Dean paused, noticing Sam's hesitation. "Do you _want _to talk about it?"

Sam silently shook his head, clearly stating his answer. _No_

"Sammy you don't have to…"

"I need you to understand." Sam said, finally turning to look at him.

"Sam, I already understand. I get it man you-"

"No… You don't… Not really..."

"Okay, I'll listen. But you don't have to."

Sam nodded, twitching a smile. _Thanks._

He took a minute, the silence continuing on, and Dean patiently waited, remembering when their roles had been switched. When it was Dean who needed to get something about hell off his chest. He wished it could be like that again. Wished that he could take the pain and memories from Sam. He wished that it would've been him that jumped instead of Sam…. After all it had been Dean's fault. He'd broken the first seal, and Sam had suffered for it.

"…..In the cage, at the end of every day… Lucifer would ask me how much pain I was in… on a scale of 1 to 10…. If I answered honestly, the torture would end for the day….They would stage and layer… methods… So every day, you'd be in the most pain you've ever felt….and then the next day would be worse…"

Dean inwardly cringed, remembering himself awnsering the same question year after year in hell.

"As the number grew, the diffrences…. Slowed…. If that makes sense…." Dean nodded, knowing what Sam ment. The pain levels would be closer.

Sam shifted again, pausing between words, clearly not wanting to think about any of this. "When it reached 10, he would rip me apart in ways I can't even begin to describe…. The pain would be so intense that even without a body, I would black out."

Dean's heart lurched and plummeted to the floor. Because he had never passed out in hell. He remembered wishing he could, but Dean had never even _seen _a soul lose consciousness in hell. The amount of pain it required shouldhave been impossible.

Sam continued "The worst part was he would always make himself look like you."

Dean sat in stunned silence, having no idea what to say. Sam's words repeated and echoed in his mind. Sam's worst days in hell were at _Deans hands_.

How was Sam even able to look at him? How much time had Sam spent looking at Dean as Lucifer tore him apart?

"I always told him that I knew it wasn't you…. But he said it didn't matter, he told me that I'd forget you." Sam quirked a half-smile "It never happened…. But now…."

"Now you're having a hard time remembering that _I'm _not _him._"

Sam nodded, turning away. "Sometimes I think that's worse."

Dean nodded again, leaning forward as things clicked into place. He suddenly understood why Sam was keeping distance.

Sam sighed, pulling a hand through his hair, turning back. "But- that's why I can't have you touch me. At least for right now…. I know you've noticed, and I' sorry… But I can't"

Dean shook his head. "No. You have _nothing _to apologize for. None of this is your fault, okay? If you need me to keep my distance, that's fine." Dean kept his voice as gentle as he could, wanting Sam to know it was Dean _really Dean._

"By the way, I'm okay if you ask questions. Just know I might not answer them."

Dean nodded, knowing what Sam was doing. Sam was letting him in, letting him help in whatever way he could. Sam was opening the door, trusting Dean with the power to ask about hell if he wanted, knowing Dean wouldn't accuse or poke fun at anything Sam shared.

He smiled "Same here Sam"

Dean did the same, allowing Sam to ask Dean about his own hell. Maybe knowing something about Dean's experience would help Sam. Let him know that he wasn't the only one who had suffered that way.

Sam smiled "Thanks."

**Leave a review**

**Did I explain things too much? Did I get the characters right? Tell me please! I'll make you cookies!**


End file.
